


Marichat May

by miracujess



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, ITS EXAM MONTH BUT NAIAD QUEEN DONT CARE, LOOK AT THIS BAD SIN, NAIAD QUEEN DONT GIVE A FUCK, but it will probably become obvious that i have been single forever, idk how explicit ill get, maybe frickle frackle, prepare for innuendo and /scorching/ touches, probs bad tho, sinsinsin, trash as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miracujess/pseuds/miracujess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hosted by @miraculous-months-of-love on tumblr</p>
<p>written by @miracujess on tumblr (send me hate!)</p>
<p>It's the month of sin, so I'll make it as PG as possible bc I'm a rebel without a cause B)</p>
<p>Also: stories are not related unless otherwise specified!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cat Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

> OH NO WHY DONT I HAVE CONTROL??
> 
> Bc it's marichat aka MY F A V E

He normally came by once a week, usually during the weekend; a trend that started after Marinette had been the target of yet another akuma. Chat Noir had dropped by her house afterwards to see if she was alright, only to be seemingly awed by her room and had refused to leave until he had inhaled a croissant and they played at least three rounds of Mecha Strike III. Not that she had minded, she had been quite shaken from that day’s akuma. It was nice to have company; especially someone she knew and someone she trusted completely, yet could be someone else with. When he had departed later that night, she had thought that that was to be the end of their bromance, yet three days later, a polite knock sounded against her trapdoor. Sometimes they would watch a movie, or play a video game, or discuss her latest creations. Other times — the worst times — he would be silent and withdrawn, and she would make futile attempts to coax a smile out of him. Those visits made her feel so helpless, and angry with herself, for both of her identities had failed to break his walls. But luckily, those nights were few and far between, though she worried about what he went through on the other six days of the week.

Chat Noir crouched down and tapped once against the trapdoor. The cat was getting impatient — he normally had a mug of hot chocolate enveloped in his hands by now. He checked the little computer in his baton. 10:45. 15 minutes had past since he arrived. He shivered slightly; winter was steadily descending onto France. He bit his lip, unsure whether to leave or see if she was okay. In the end, his desire to see her, even for just a minute, won out, and he cleared his throat.

“ _Purr_ incess?” he called out, hopefully loud enough to be heard by her ears only. “Are you alright?”

No reply.

“Marinette?” He liked the way her name rolled off his tongue, but he didn’t say it often. It seemed too… intimate. But he was getting worried. What if another akuma had snatched her away?

“Marinette, I’m coming in, okay?” He wedged his claws into the door gap and flicked the door up. He gave a silent prayer that she was wearing clothes, and dropped down onto her bed, closing the door behind him.

Marinette, hearing all the jostling, started and whipped around in her computer chair. When she saw it was Chat Noir, however, her body relaxed.

“Chat Noir! You scared me! Oh la la la…” she sighed, placing a hand against her chest. Her very pale chest, Chat Noir noticed, as Marinette was currently clad in dark blue boxer shorts and a distressingly tiny grey tank top. He flushed and climbed down the loft ladder slowly while Marinette, oblivious, checked her phone.

“10:50 already?” she exclaimed. “Oh, kitty, I’m so sorry! You must’ve been waiting out in the cold for ages!”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he assured her. “The suit protects me.” Which was only partially true: the suit protected him from injuries, not from the elements.

Marinette frowned, as if she knew he wasn’t telling the truth. “But still, you should’ve let me know you were out there!”

“Princess, I did. I knocked, and called out.”

“You did? Oh, I’m the worst—!”

“No, no, Princess! Please don’t blame yourself! It’s not your fault.”

Marinette’s face suddenly crumpled. “Oh, but it is! I saved this homework for last minute, and it’s due tomorrow, and I am very, very dead if I don’t finish this for Ms. Mendeleiev. She’s vicious!” She spun back to the desk. “But, physics is my worst subject! Oh, I’m so dead!” she wailed as she banged her head against the desk. 

Chat Noir rushed forward and placed his gloved hands on either side of her head from behind, stopping her from hurting herself further. “Luckily for the _Purr_ incess, I am _paw_ istively _claw_ esome at physics!”

Marinette threw him a grimace. “Oh yeah, I’m _doomed_!”

Chat Noir chuckled. “No, you’re not.” He adjusted his position so that he was crouching besides her chair, scanning her notes. “See, you’re getting this wrong because you’re forgetting to factor in the—“ He turned his head towards her, and his voice cut off, for long, inky strands hung unbound over her shoulders, tips brushing against the edge of the desk. The scent that wafted off of them was downright hypnotizing, and Chat Noir couldn’t decide if it was vanilla or something equally tantalizing.

“Chat…?” Marinette prompted, noticing he had gone silent. “What’s wrong?” She looked at him, head still bowed and eyes widened with curiosity, and suddenly the blue was too intense for him.

“Oh, nothing,” he croaked, rather pathetically. “I j-just… Has your room always been this hot?” He stood up abruptly and took a step back, away from the fragrance surrounding her. “So much for winter, heheheh… heh.”

Marinette swiveled in her chair to face him once more, sweeping her hair over one shoulder. “Chat Noir, can you help me or not?” she pressed, raising one skeptical eyebrow.

Chat Noir gulped. The air suddenly felt too thin. “You know, maybe I can’t—“ She didn’t even bother for him to finish his sentence before twirling back to her work.

He watched in stunned silence as she gathered her ~~silky~~ ~~lustrous~~ hair into a messy knot and stabbed it with a pencil to keep it up. He said nothing as she leaned forward, exposing the creamy expanse of her back to him. His throat closed and his breath hitched as she looked over her shoulder, and glanced at him with eyes half-mast, lashes caressing her cheekbones.

“You can show yourself out, can’t you? I need to do this,” she told him, voice lower than usual. Then she turned back to her homework, leaving him gaping at her.

Chat Noir’s jaw dropped. He felt strangely affronted. And mischievous. He looked at the trapdoor, and then back at the girl he couldn’t stay away from. He took a cautious step forward, then stopped. 

_What am I doing?_ Adrien asked himself. _She told me to go._

_Well, she actually said you *can* go, not that you should,_ countered the black cat.

 _I know what you’re planning, and no way in hell am I going to do it. That’s_ Marinette _!_ Adrien practically hissed.

 _Well, good thing she doesn’t know it’s you, Adrien_. Adrien could feel the cat mentally smirking.

His body moved further forward. Adrien begged and pleaded, but the cat refused to be ignored.

Marinette felt a covered hand on her shoulder. “Chat Noir? You’re still here? I said you could—“

Chat Noir slightly dragged her chair backwards. Marinette gasped as he then shoved all her papers, notes, and books to the side. “Hey! What are you doing—?” she squeaked, before cutting off with a choke. 

Chat Noir perched at the edge of her desk, calves straddling her knees and a devious grin dancing on his lips. His eyes were alight with green fire. He leaned forward, until his nose was inches from hers.

“I have a better idea, Princess,” he purred, breath ghosting across her cheeks. “Why don’t you do _me_ instead?

* * *

The next morning, one bystander swore to her friend, that she saw a man, yelling and hollering, fall from the sky, land on all fours, and run away, just before a massive flowerpot shattered on the spot where he landed.


	2. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I FEELZ U CHAT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol what is hw?

Nope. No way. Not one chance.  
  
There was no way he liked Marinette.   
  
Pssh, as _if_. Maybe when pigs fly.  
  
(Okay, they did that one time but that was an akuma so it doesn’t count!)  
  
And yet…  
  
How can he explain seeing red when Nathanäel would talk to her?  Or when Nino would pat her shoulder affectionately?  
  
It must be because they spend so much time together. Yes, that’s it! He’s become protective of her, like a brother.  
  
So why can’t he think straight whenever they touch?  
  
Why does he have to try his hardest to not run hi fingers through her hair?  
  
Why is it that all he wants to do is to stare into her eyes and breathe her in?  
  
Why does he forget about Ladybug whenever they’re together?  
  
He feels sick. Sick and giddy and warm.  
  
Gosh, he was the worst.  
  
How could he claim to love his Lady if he thinks this way about his classmate?  
  
He needs to stay away.  
  


* * *

Pathetic. Absolutely, completely, totally _pathetic_.  
  
He can’t even keep promises that he made to himself. To Ladybug.  
  
He perches on her balcony railing, green eyes focused on the door to her room. Their sanctuary. His torment.  
  
Indecision broils within him like a tempest. Should he cave or should he withstand? Did he have the right to make that choice?  
  
But, oh, it seems that the stars holding vigil above decide for him.  
  
Scratching at the door, and a sliver of golden light darts out. Twin blue suns peek out into the night.  
  
“Chat Noir?”  
  
He stiffens, and then sighs, defeated, his determination melting away.   
  
There was never any true choice; he would always go to her.  
  
Because that’s just what traitorous hearts do.   
  
His green eyes flash in the dark like two verdant jewels.  
  
“I’m here, Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short bc i'm a crappy person bye!


	3. Injured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why do i do dis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TELL ME CHAT WOULDN'T DO THIS.

Marinette groaned with pain as soon as she released her transformation. She leaned against the wall, hand gently probing the already-swelling skin around her eye. Tikki flew up and took her face into her tiny hands.

 

“Hmm,” she mused, “it looks like the Cure didn’t erase all the damage.” She looked into Marinette’s eyes and pouted. “I’m sorry, Marinette.”

 

Marinette managed a weak laugh. Today’s akuma had been especially strenuous. “Don’t worry, Tikki. It’s not your fault. Hopefully makeup will be enough to cover up whatever bruise may form.”

 

Tikki flew to her shoulder. “I can’t see the future, but I can already tell you this one’s going to be a real colourful one,” she mumbled.

 

“Oh well,” Marinette sighed, body aching. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. Right now, all I want it some home-delivered bingsu and a long soak in the bath. How does that sound?”

 

“That sounds wonderful!” Tikki giggled, ever the ray of sunshine.

 

“It’s a plan, then.” She pushed off the all, and was about to find her way home when she heard a clatter from the roof above her. Marinette froze, knowing of only one person who could have access up there.

 

“Tikki, hide!” she hissed, and the little god swiftly darted into her cardigan.

 

A large, black mass dropped down to the concrete in front of her, a sharp _thump_ accompanying it.

 

“Well, well, if it isn’t Mlle. Dupain-Cheng!” crowed Chat Noir. “I never thought I’d see you here, of all places!”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly locked up in my room, you know? I have a life, too.” Marinette tried to turn her face away from the light so that Chat Noir wouldn’t see her swelling and discoloured eye.

 

Chat Noir chuckled. “Still as scathing as ever, _Purr_ incess.”

 

Marinette groaned again. “Oh, please, my day has been long enough! No puns, I beg of you!” Despite herself, a smile hung on her lips.

 

Chat Noir bowed. “As you wish, Princess.” A thought came into his mind and he straightened. “Did you see the akuma attack? I hope you weren’t nearby.”

 

Marinette couldn’t hold back her wince. Oh, the irony. “I might have been… to close for comfort.”

 

“‘Too close for…?’” Chat Noir started, then seemed to get a better look at her face. “Marinette! Your eye! What happened?”

 

“A classic case of Marinette’s ‘Right Place, Wrong Timing’,” she said wryly, giving up her attempt to hide her eye. “A real beauty of a shiner, no?”

 

Chat Noir gasped, and stepped forward. “Oh, Princess, I’m sorry,” he whispered, cupping her face in her hands and examining the mottling skin.

 

Marinette’s heart beat faster. “H-hey now,” she mumbled shakily, avoiding his eyes. “It’s not like you could’ve done anything about it…”

 

Chat Noir seemed to notice where his hands were, and he dropped them abruptly. He didn’t step back, though. “But still, I should’ve evacuated the area of civilians faster.”

 

_Like that would’ve helped_ , Marinette thought drily. _Poor chaton, he’s really beating himself up over it_.

 

“Listen, there’s no use talking about ‘would’ve, could’ve, should’ve’, okay?” Marinette grinned up at the cat, eyes squiching. “Now, are you going to escort me home or will I have to make you?”

 

Chat Noir smiled; worry melting out of his eyes. “Yes, of course, Princess,” he replied, looping his arm with hers. “Let your knight lead the way.”

 

Marinette rolled her eyes, and they walked in amiable silence.

 

* * *

 

As the bakery came into view, Chat Noir paused. “You know what’s strange? Ladybug was hit in the _exact_ same place you were!”

 

Marinette’s entire body stiffened, and she suddenly felt like screaming. “…Oh?” she said, voice scarcely above a whisper.

 

“Yeah, isn’t it strange?” Chat Noir turned to face her. “Like, in the exact _same_ place, right on the left eye, at the _same_ akuma attack. You even have the same hairstyle!”

 

Marinette tensed, ready to sock him when the other shoe dropped.

 

“What a weird coincidence, right?” Chat Noir finished innocently, and with that, he walked her to the door.

 

Marinette stared in shock at Chat’s retreating figure through the bakery window.

 

“ _Ooh_ , Marinette!” Sabine cooed. “Are you seeing Chat Noir? He’s a fine young man.” She smiled coyly. “I approve.”

 

Marinette looked at her mother blankly before racing upstairs to scream into her pillow.

 

(“What?” Marinette could hear her mother call as she ran away. “Children these days are too shy.”)

 

Tikki flew out of Marinette’s cardigan once they were in the safety of her room and her chaise pillow was stifling Marinette’s screams.

 

“Well,” Tikki sighed, shaking her tiny head. “I never said that the Black Cats were the _smart_ ones in this partnership.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "squiching" is 100% a word promise


	4. Protective Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HALF-ASSED DICK JOKES

Another day, another akuma attack. Same old, same old.  
  
Mme. Bustier’s class was on a field trip to the Louvre to look at sculptures. Alix and Kim were giggling about their — _ehem_ — tiny male organs, Max was busy calculating the volume of marble needed for each statue, Nathanaël and Marinette were taking detailed notes on anatomy, Nino, Alya, Myléne and Ivan were talking a selfie with one comical piece, Rose and Juleka were cooing at a nearby baby, Adrien had gone to the bathroom, and Chloé was sulking, as usual, with Sabrina.  
  
A boom sounded throughout the building. All at once, the class looked to the exhibit doors, then at each other.  
  
Mme. Bustier sighed. “Akuma. Okay children, you know the drill. Single file line to the opposite exit. Make sure you have your buddies.”  
  
Nino piped up. “Mme. Bustier, Adrien is in the bathroom.”  
  
Alya saw her chance and took it. “Marinette and I will look for him!”  She grabbed the former’s hand and dashed for the door before they could get a reply.  
  
They sprinted down the hallway, Marinette gasping and trying to find her rhythm. “Alya, what are you doing?”  
  
“Getting footage for the Ladyblog, of course.”  
  
“Oh… _huff_ … of course.” Marinette wasn’t too worried about Adrien, knowing that he was smart enough to find his own way out.  
  
Hawkmoth’s newest victim was named The Pain-ter. She was roaring and thrashing around, pointing a purple paintbrush at fleeing civilians, who were then hit was what looked like a stream of purple paint and sucked into the painting around them.  
  
“How do you like art now, fools?” she hollered, chortling maniacally.  
  
Great, they had _another_ jilted artist to deal with.  
  
Alya dragged Marinette behind a bench and pulled out her phone to record. “This is a _great_ angle.”  
  
_Okay_ , Marinette thought, _how do I loose Alya? I need to transform._  
  
Marinette’s dilemma was solved when The Pain-ter spotted them. “Art is hard, suckers!” she screamed, and pointed her weapon at them, firing it up.  
  
Oh no! Marinette tackled Alya to the floor and, thinking quickly, grabbed a discarded handbag and flung it at the akuma. Her aim was true, clobbering her in the face.  
  
“ _Arghh_!” she hissed, and Marinette snatched Alya’s free hand, pull her up, and started dragging her to the nearest exit.  
  
“No, Marinette, I have to record!” Alya was trying to pull her hand away.  
  
“Alya, you can’t update your blog if you’re stuck in a painting. For once, please just listen to me!” Alya, seeing how distressed her friend was, relented, and they dashed down the hallways.  
  
Marinette was looking back on Alya when she ran into something solid and warm.  
  
“Oof!” she and Chat Noir cried out simultaneously.  
  
“Pri—Marinette?” Chat Noir’s voice was incredulous as he grabbed her shoulders to steady her.  
  
“No… _huff_ … time,” Marinette wheezed. “Akuma… Gallery 6… _whew_ … Adrien… as well.”  
  
Chat Noir nodded soberly. “Got it. Need any help getting out?”  
  
Marinette forced a smile. “No. Thanks chaton.” she said before grabbing Alya’s arm and making a run for it once more. Alya faced Chat Noir as she passed him.  
  
“Marinette also hit her in the face with a handbag. It was awesome!”  
  
“ _Alya_!” Marinette admonished, looking embarrassed. Chat Noir smiled and watched her retreating back briefly before making his way to the battle.  
  
Marinette was busy looking for an out. She was about to entertain the idea of telling Alya that she needed to go to the bathroom when she finally saw her saviour. The gates that descended from the ceiling to block off exhibits were coming down. The one that they were approaching was almost to the floor, and with her last but of energy, she slid Alya under it, much to the blogger’s shock.  
  
“Mari! Why did you do that?” Alya gripped the bars, reaching for her friend.  
  
“I needed to get you out; you’re too reckless. Don’t worry, I’ll find another way, just go! Tell Mme. Bustier I’m with Adrien.”  
  
“Okay,” Alya said dubiously. “Look for Ladybug, she can help you!” she advised before reluctantly turning her back on her friend and heading for the exit. “Stay safe!”  
  
_Yeah, sure_ , Marinette thought sarcastically before finally uttering the sacred words.  
  
“Tikki, transforme moi!”  
  


* * *

  
One very unappreciated artist later, Ladybug and Chat Noir saved the day again. Marinette was strolling out to the pyramid, where her class was waiting. Her friends bombarded her with questions, which she brushed off with practiced ease.  
  
“Marinette,” Mme. Bustier cut in, “where is Adrien?’  
  
Marinette blanched. “He’s, uh…”  
  
“He’s being taken home by his bodyguard as we speak,” Chat Noir assured from behind her.  
  
The class, always happy to see one of their heroes, heaped praise on him. Marinette noticed Alya creeping forward with her phone at the ready and gave her a hard look. Alya grinned sheepishly and pocketed the device.  
  
“But I think the real hero today is Marinette.”  
  
“Me? Why?” she squeaked. _Oh no oh no oh no…_  
  
“Yes, you! Thanks to you, the akuma was so disorientated that I was able to take it on by myself until Ladybug arrived.”  
  
“Ugh, as if!” Chloé cut in. “She’s probably took credit for someone else. Marinette’s a total wuss!”  
  
Chat Noir’s face darkened. “Oh yeah? And did you risk death to save your friend from an attack? Or worried about someone other than yourself” he said dangerously. “Because last I remember, you caused your own best friend to be akumatized.”  
  
Chloé turned red as the rest of the class stared slack-jawed at the hero. He looked down at his shoes shyly.  
  
“What?” he mumbled. “It’s true.”  
  
The class, sans Sabrina and Chloé, stared cheering. Marinette felt a blush paint her cheeks.  
  
“Thanks,” she whispered.  
  
“It was the truth, Princess.” He smiled softly. “I wasn’t about to let her besmirch your name like that.” And with a click of his baton, he vaulted over them and was gone.  
  
Alya turned to look at her friend. “So,” she said, cheekily. “‘ _Princess_ ’, huh?”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh i'm not the proudest of this??? But it is my longest one ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ so I guess quantity truly doesn't account for quality


	5. Protective Marinette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> watch out this is rife with a weirdly sexual vibe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hella long and hella bad #ThisIsHowNaiadQueenWorks

At around sunset, Chat Noir spotted Marinette sitting on a park bench, eating an ice-cream cone and drawing in her sketchbook.  


“Well, well, well, it looks like the princess escaped from her tower without the help of her knight.” Chat Noir sauntered up to her from behind. She jumped a little, accidentally shoving the ice-cream into her nose. He laughed and moved around to the front of the bench and took his place next to her.

“Chat Noir!” She tried to look down her nose, at the dollop of green ice-cream. “Oh, what a mess…” she sighed, frowning. She reached into her bag, probably reaching for a tissue or something, but Chat Noir reacted swiftly. He leaned forward, and, with one hand, turned her face towards his and wiped the melting treat off of her nose with his thumb. Marinette turned a pleasing red, flushing brighter still when he licked the sugary goodness on the pad of his thumb.

“Ah, matcha. Good choice, Princess.”

“Chat,” she said in a scolding tone.

“ _Princess_ ,” he parroted.

She tried to hide a grin and failed. “So, what dragged the cat out?”

“ _Har-dee-har_ , Princess.” She blew him a raspberry. “If you must know, I am on patrol.” Her smiled dimmed, ever so slightly. 

“Without Ladybug?”

Chat Noir made a face. “She needs to sleep. I won’t drag her out for pointless patrols because I got cabin fever.” That wasn’t the whole story, though. Ladybug had lately been more… attentive to him, and, truth e told, it made him uneasy, for Adrien’s father would act similarly, but then it would be revealed that his father wanted something from him.

Marinette’s lips twitched and she took another bite of her ice-cream. “Well, I’m sure she worries about you just the same. And who knows? Maybe she’s itching for the outside as well.”

Chat Noir raised his eyebrows. “Yes, of course. Sorry for doubting your judgement, oh wise Dr. Dupain-Cheng with Ph.D. in Psychology.”

Marinette snorted and pushed the ice-cream into his face. He leaned backwards in time to not get a face full of dessert, but thought better of it and took a long lick instead.

“Hey! Get your own!” she cried, belatedly snatching it away.

“It tastes better if its yours,” Chat Noir responded innocently. Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Wait! Lexi! Stop!” hollered a girl about their age as she chased after a small black spaniel with a bright blue leash trailing behind it. The aforementioned creature was dashing towards them with cold intent, little yaps that were probably supposed to be ferocious emitting from its mouth. Its eyes were glaring into Chat Noir’s, and he felt like his good day was about to get very awkward. 

Many things happened at once.

“Chat! Move!” Marinette threw herself to the floor and knelt in front of Chat Noir, arms spread like a shield. The ice-cream lay forgotten on the floor.

Chat made the move to scoop his princess into his arms and leap away, but was blocked by Marinette. “Princess, no! You’ll get bitt—“

The dog finally reached them, owner uselessly swiping at the slithering leash.

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation for the oncoming bite.

Hot breath brushed against her face. But there was no pain of a bite.

“Eh?” Marinette peeked through one eye, and saw large brown eyes sparkling up at her and a wetly glistening nose. She relaxed her body, and finally registered that the dog was sitting in front of Marinette’s spread form, tail wagging sweetly, and a face begging for pets.

The owner finally caught up to her runaway dog, breathing heavy. She braced her hands against her knees. “Oh la la, I am _so_ sorry! She’s harmless, really. All bark and no bite.” She blew her unruly brown hair out her face. “I really am sorry. She’s just so strong sometimes, the leash just flies out of my hands. Oh, no! Your ice-cream! Please, let me buy you another one… Wow, that actually looks really good, I might just get one myself…” she rambled as she bent down and picked up the handle of the leash.

Marinette laughed, glad that the apparent danger had passed. She adjusted her body so that she was sitting cross-legged on the floor. “It’s okay! No harm, no foul, right?” she tentatively placed her hand in front of the dog’s nose, who sniffed it and gave it a happy lick. Marinette giggled again and rub the dog’s head, and she leaned into it. “What’s her name?”

The girl looked blank for a second, and then gathered her thoughts. “O-oh, it’s Lexi. And I’m Pauline.” Pauline watched with amazement as her dog moved into Marinette’s embrace and started licking her chin. “Wow, she likes you.”

Marinette smirked. “Well, Pauline, it seems that animals just seem to flock to me.” The last bit she directed over her shoulder, where a tense Chat Noir crouched on the bench with a wary look on his face. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Oh, don’t be a scaredy _cat_ ,” she teased. Chat Noir scoffed but reluctantly settled on the floor next other. Lexi sniffed the hero, snarled, and turned back to Marinette. 

Chat Noir grumbled.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Marinette nudged him with her shoulder. “ _Cat_ got your tongue?”

Chat Noir nudged her back. “I meant to say that you must be _barking_ mad to play with such a fearsome beast.” Chat Noir winked at Pauline jokingly.

Pauline gaped at him. “Wait, you’re…” Chat Noir braced himself for an autograph request. Marinette was hoping for her to berate him for his terrible jokes. Alas, they were both disappointed.

“… _Cute_ ,” she blurted

Marinette froze, the silky ears of a dog in bliss between her fingers. “Pardon me?”

* * *

“ _Bwahahah_! Princess, your _face_!” Chat Noir mimed wiping tears from his eyes. “Priceless.”

“Yeah, yeah, you dumb cat. Just eat your ice-cream.” For emphasis, Marinette gave her new cone — chocolate this time — a curt lick.

After Pauline’s outburst, the atmosphere had gotten rapidly awkward. To end everyone’s misery, Marinette had showed them where the ice-cream stand was, and Pauline had graciously paid for the three of them. They had parted ways on a stiff-yet-amicable note, Lexi obliviously scampering along, and Chat Noir and Marinette were now walking to the bakery.

“Meow-ch, Princess. No need to be catty.” Chat Noir finished his strawberry cone with a satisfied smack!

“Oh, don’t you star—Chat?” She noticed he wasn’t smiling anymore. “Are you okay?”

“Thanks,” he said quietly. His face was turned down, eyes focused on their feet.

“For what?” Marinette asked, confused.

“For trying to protect me. I mean, you were willing to get bitten for me… Not a lot of people would do that for Chat Noir.”

Marinette didn’t know how to respond. She bit her lip. “What about the boy underneath?” she said against every instinct. Why did she say that? Why was she prying—?

Chat Noir stopped in his steps and looked up, at her, for a long time. “Yeah,” he replied, face softening.

“‘Yeah?’ What is that supp—?“

Chat Noir abruptly leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Marinette closed her eyes, sighing imperceptibly. 

“Thank you, Princess,” he whispered against her skin.

She opened her eyes, and he was gone. 

She stared at the now-night sky in which he disappeared until her abandoned and melting ice-cream started to run over her knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have fluff, frack build-up, maybe crack, and teeny angst. and what kind of terrible author would I be if I didn't self insert?
> 
> 26 more days I'm sorry


	6. "I Like Someone Else"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chat uses his powers for evil
> 
> #AccidentalAlyanette
> 
> #ButNotReally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S LATE BUT IT'S HERE AND IT'S HELLA QUEER

Chat Noir landed on the balcony with a big smile on his face. It was late afternoon, and he usually didn’t come by this early, but he had had a photoshoot that had been cancelled, so now he had the whole weekend to himself. And maybe with his Princess.

 

“ _Purr_ incess~” he called, triumphantly shaking the paper bag of toffee cubes in his fist. “I come bearing gi—“ He froze.

 

“Alya, could you just be quiet for one minute?” Marinette’s voice, tense and clipped, flowed up through the floor, heard only because of Chat Noir’s super-hearing.

 

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe this. After all this time?” Alya’s voice was thick with an emotion Chat Noir couldn’t identify.

 

A pause. “Yes, well, it wasn’t like it was going to go anywhere.”

 

Chat Noir was stuck between giving Marinette privacy, or finding out what was making her upset. While she talked about her school and friends and interests, she rarely talked about was working her. He shook his head and sat down, placing the toffee on the floor. Guilt stabbed in his chest at his decision to stay.

 

“If you had only given it more time—“ Alya pleaded.

 

“More time? No, Alya, please. Be realistic.” The voice was pretty clear; Marinette must’ve been sitting at her desk. “It’s been years. He has never looked at _me_ , at least not like _that_.”

 

 _‘He’?_ Chat Noir thought. A boy was making his Princess sad? Chat Noir strained his ears, hoping to catch a name so that an unfortunate accident might befall the boy.

 

“Did he do something? Say something?”

 

“It just happened!” Marinette huffed, voice becoming fainter as she moved around the room. Chat Noir knelt and pressed his ear(s) against the floor. “It wasn’t anything he did, not really.” He voice became softer. “Besides, he likes _her_.”

 

Chat didn’t have to be looking at Alya to imagine the concern on her face. “Oh, Mari…”

 

“Alya, it’s fine. She’s…” Marinette laughed bitterly. _“Perfect._ There was no competition.”

 

His Princess’ heart was in pain because of a guy? Chat had the sudden, fiery desire to use Cataclysm on someone.

 

A soft thump sounded against the floor. Chat jumped, fearing he had been caught.

 

“I’ll bash his stupid beautiful face in!” Alya growled.

 

Marinette laughed again, this one less unhappy. “Don’t throw my pillows around! Alya, I’m _okay_!”

 

“But…” Alya’s voice was mournful. “Mari, _you’re_ perfect.”

 

“Oh, Alya, what did I ever do to deserve you?” Subdued giggling and the sounds of cloth against cloth. Chat guessed that they were hugging.

 

After some time, Chat Noir heard Alya move back.

 

“If you want,” Alya said with intensity, “I can delete the Ladyblog, in solidarity.”

 

Mariette and Chat Noir gasped in unison, though he remembered to be silent. “Alya, no! I will not let you do that!” Marinette was resolute. “The Blog’s your baby!”

 

But Chat was concerned about something else. _Ladybug_? His Princess and his Lady were at odds over the same guy? Chat Noir felt ill.

 

“No, Marinette, you’re my baby,” Alya snickered. “Now, come here.”

 

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Marinette warned. Squeals erupted from the room and they both laughed about tickling and _no, stop that!_ and _if you don’t stay still I swear I’ll dump this water on you_.

 

It was only until Alya had left (after sides had split and tears from laughter had happened) that Marinette went up to the balcony to wait for her cat, only to discover the bag of abandoned toffees.

 

* * *

 

He was going to be in so much trouble.

 

He had been so unreasonably upset by what he had heard that he only remembered he had left the toffees well after (another lonely) dinner.

 

He just couldn’t believe that Ladybug and Marinette were caught up in this. To him, they were incomparable. Ladybug was strength, bravery, protection, and uninhibited, whereas Marinette was support, gentle, enthusiasm and artistic. They were just two different people from two different worlds. As different as the night and the day. Though, the more he thought about it, the more similar they seemed. They were both charming in their own rights, both opening to thinking creatively. They both were both passionate, both had a strong sense of justice, they both believe in the inherent goodness of people, and they both had his complete trust.

 

They were both heartbreakingly beautiful.

 

~~He was also in love with the both of them.~~

 

He stewed over these revelations as he rushed back to the balcony in order to retrieve the toffees. If Marinette found them, she would know he’d been there and heard the conversation, and Chat Noir wouldn’t be able to survive the embarrassment.

 

Well, unfortunately for him, a certain Princess was sitting on the deck chair, enwrapped in a plush white blanket. It looked like she had been waiting for him.

 

He landed on the railing, sheathing his baton. Her face was blank.

 

“Uh, hi,” he said sheepishly, rubbing his neck in shame.

 

“Hey. Want a toffee?” she responded emotionlessly, nonchalantly popping a cube into her mouth from the bag in her lap. “Isn’t weird how I just found this on my balcony?”

 

Seeing no other option, other than to flee and never return, Chat Noir shrugged and decided to be pure _Chat_ . “It wasn’t me,” he tried to say as coolly as possible.

 

A smile broke out on Marinette’s face. Swallowing, she said, “You silly chaton. I know it was you.”

 

He winked at her. “Princess, if you’re going to be interrogating me, I want my lawyer.”

 

“’You’re under arrest,’” Marinette quoted, now fighting against the laughter that was threatening to escape her throat. “’Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law.’”

 

“Anything? Held against me?” Chat Noir tapped his lip while his elbow was cupped in his opposite palm, pretending to think hard. “Okay then,” he purred. “ _You_.”

 

Marinette tilted her head, confused. “What?”

 

“I said ‘you.’ So,” He pointed at her. “You.”

 

He leapt from the railing, and sauntered towards her seated form. “Held against.”

 

He pointed at himself. “Me.” He spread his arms, as if awaiting her body.

 

Thanks to Chat Noir’s flawless night vision, he could see Marinette’s cheeks brighten to a delightful peach colour.

 

“S-stupid cat,” she stammered, chucking the bag of toffees at his face. He caught them effortlessly and picked a piece from the bag.

 

“ _Ooh_ , yummy!” he commented.

 

Marinette held her face in her hands. “Why do I put up with you?”

 

Chat Noir nudged her to make space on the seat and sat himself down. “Because you love me.”

 

Marinette turned her face away and mumbled something under her breath, so indistinct that even Chat’s ears couldn’t pick it up. He decided not to press it.

 

* * *

 

They sat in comfortable quiet for a while, watching the Parisian lights, arms pressed together. Marinette was the first to break the silence.

 

“So…” she started, “you probably heard my conversation with Alya earlier.”

  
Chat Noir winced. “Princess, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overhear.”

 

“No, no, it’s fine. Really.”

 

“Would it be wrong of me to ask who he is? Maybe I can talk to Ladybug...? Or beat him up. Whichever is easier for me.”

 

Marinette started shaking. At first, Chat Noir thought she was crying, but then he heard her snorts.

 

“It’s _fine_ , how many times do I have to say it?” Marinette turned her head so it rested on Chat’s shoulder. “Besides — and don’t tell Alya this, because she would not shut up about it if she knew — I like someone else.”

 

Chat Noir’s breath halted. In that second, he hoped desperately that it was him.

 

He knew the saying. The whole world did.

 

“May I ask who it is?” he requested tentatively, voice low.

 

_Curiosity killed the cat..._

 

“But chaton,” Marinette teased, “don’t you realize that’s for me to know and for you to find out?”

 

_... But satisfaction brought it back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Alyanette was unintentional, and looking back at it, it's also really suggestive, but we all know who's the _real_ otp in this show.


	7. Adrien Posters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir is pushing my PG vibes.
> 
> This is all part of my plan for day 27 (which, if you haven't guessed/don't know, is **sin**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could add more bc this DESERVES so much more the comedic GOLD!!
> 
> You know how much freaking research I did for this? I looked up the best sewing machines for talented students and jndkjnsf and also the allowance that french teenagers receive and marinette's room specs ALL THE TIME I had to google MATCHA for protective marientte and the louvre for protect chat and stargazing im probably going map stars bc akjdnsndf[ and dance styles and freaking I don't even research for essays for school but shitty fanfic man I'll get a freaking expert for that an jdfkjsbdfkjs
> 
> Also, I just want to add to avoid any confusion that none of the stories are in the same timeline/universe unless stated otherwise!

Marinette _knew_ those posters had been a risky idea.

 

But come on, wouldn’t you want the epitome of beauty plastered all over your walls too?

 

Alya was the only one of her friends who went into her room, anyway, and Alya was (mostly) 100% chill about Marinette’s crush. Plus, she had a lot excuses she could use, should an uninvited and uninformed guest come upstairs, her favourite being that she uses them as reference when designing menswear.

 

In all honesty, it was her fault. She should’ve known how the chaton would have acted.

 

“What are _those_?” The words burst from Chat’s lips the moment he stepped into the room. His face was a mixture of delight, horror, and utter amusement. His face — or what was visible of it — was red with the effort of keeping his guffaws in.

 

Marinette groaned internally, while on the outside, she replied innocently, “I don’t know whatever you mean.”

 

“What I _mean_ ,” Chat said breathlessly, “is why is the face of Adrien Agreste _everywhere_?”

 

“You’re just exaggerating. He’s not everywhere.”

 

“Princess, I can count 36 individual posters on this wall _alone_.”

 

“Okay, so you’re not exaggerating.”

 

Chat Noir shook his head in wonderment, taking in the entire room. “But _why_? Are you in love with him like the rest of Paris’ teenage girl population?”

 

“I’m not ‘in love with him!’” Marinette protested. “It’s not like that—“

 

“Oh no!” Chat Noir cut in with a gasp. “Don’t tell me…” He looked at her, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me you… _do the thing_ to him—“

 

“Chat Noir! Get your mind out of the gutter right now or so help me Mama Cheng…” Marinette cautioned.

 

Chat Noir grinned and flicked a pigtail. “I’m just pulling your leg, _Purr_ incess. You get _your_ head out of the gutter.”

 

Marinette flushed all the way down to her shoulders. “I regret ever befriending you,” she muttered darkly.

 

“You wound me, Princess.” Chat Noir pressed a hand over his heart. “Harsh.”

 

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Silly kitty.”

 

“So…” Chat walked over and flopped onto her chaise. “What’s the story behind here, then? If you’re not in love with him?” He gestured at the many photographs of the blond model with a sweeping arm and gave Marinette an expectant look.

 

“Oh, uh…” _Shit, Marinette, what’s your best excuse?_ “Well, you—uh, know I design, right?” Chat nodded slowly, as if to say _go on_.

 

“Well, I need to focus more on menswear, and Gabriel Agreste is one of my favourite designers, and Adrien goes to my school, and he’s also more of my target audience, so I thought it would be good to get an understanding of how a male’s body works and flows so I thought that since Adrien has had professional photographs taken of him they would be the best reference for seeing what’s flattering and where would be the best place to put seems and embellishments and other, technical stuff like that and—“ _Marinette, you’re rambling!_

_“_ —yeah.” she finished lamely. Chat watched her with a bemused smirk.

 

“Okay, you’ve convinced me, Mlle. Future-Hotshot-Designer-Princess.”

 

“Really? ‘Future-Hotshot-Designer-Princess’?” She sighed jokingly.

 

“What? You didn’t think I’d leave out your title, Princess?”

 

“You’re a dork.”

 

“I’m _your_ dork.”

 

They spent some time playing Mecha Strike IV, where Marinette ~~completely annihilated~~ gracefully defeated the black-clad hero. Then she went downstairs to snatch some snacks from the fridge, and when she came back up, she saw Chat Noir examining her sewing machine. She set down the tray by the computer on the desk and came up next to him.

 

“A real beauty, isn’t she? A Sister Creator Collection RB6000. I had to order her online, because they only sell them in America. I had to save up for 4 months, and my parents paid the rest off as a birthday present. But she was worth it. 190 built-in stitches. 10 sewing feet. I would die for this machine,” she sighed dreamily, reaching out to stroke the top of the sewing machine.

 

Chat Noir stifled a chuckle in his fist.

 

“Your designs are great, you know,” he commented, scanning the sketches and fabric swatches that were scattered haphazardly across the desk.

 

Marinette looked at him. “Really?” she asked, voice higher than usual, her eyes bright and an earnest smile on her lips. Chat Noir smiled back.

 

“Definitely. I love what you’ve done here.” He pointed out the drawing he was talking about. “But…”

 

They spent the next half hour talking about fashion and design, the croissants lying forgotten on the desk (much to Chat Noir’s later despair).

 

Marinette had gotten more louder and excited throughout the conversation. It was nice to see her peek out of her normally reserved shell, especially when it was about something she loved. And Marinette was touched that Chat Noir seemed genuinely interested — in fact, he was pretty knowledgeable about the industry. How coincidental!

 

She had shown him almost all of her designs and concepts when Chat asked, “So, where are your menswear designs?”

 

She looked at him blankly. “Eh?”

 

“You know, the ones inspired by Adrien Agreste and all that,” he said, nodding his head to one of the many magazine spreads on the walls.

 

Marinette did not, in fact, have any men’s clothing designs. She evidently did not think this alibi through.

 

“… Oh, right. Those ones. Eheheh, about _that_ …”

 

She was _so_ screwed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm noticing a trend that the food keeps on getting abandoned. 
> 
> It's ironic because I made this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42NtpZKTzI4
> 
> (you know you wanna reblog it: http://miracujess.tumblr.com/post/141490711701/ride-wit-me-through-this-excruciating-hiatus)


	8. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BC CHEESE IS ALL I'VE CONSUMED THIS WEEKEND

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's another late chapter, yay! Today's prompt, Movie Night, will be combined with tomorrow's prompt, Nightmares (huehuehue). This one is a real doozy, friends. Extra long = extra bad. I spent my whole freaking morning researching jazz and then I realized i should just be cliched. Well, c'est la vie (rose).
> 
> Note: this is in the same universe as chapter 6 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/6712747/chapters/15480427)  
> and they are like 18 here
> 
> this was never proofread either ooops

Paris in the daytime is certainly beautiful, but once night settles over the city, it becomes something else. Something… undefinable. Something magical.

 

And that magic can bewitch anything and anyone.

 

Marinette was alone, walking along the Seine at 11 o’clock, breathing in that particular Parisian atmosphere. She was full of food and contentment. She was walking home after an evening spent with Nino and Alya. They had gone to the art show of Nathanaël’s aunt, and then grabbed dinner in a neat little bistro near the Louvre, where they had talked and gossiped and laughed for nearly 3 hours. Afterwards, Nino and Alya left to take Alya home, knowing that Marinette’s house was nearby, and Marinette knowing that the couple wanted some alone time away from their depressingly-single friend.

 

Adrien had been invited to come, of course, but he had had a dinner party to attend to with his father and unfortunately couldn’t come. A shame, too, because Marinette was looking downright stunning tonight — if she did say so herself. She was wearing a knee-length ivory tulle skirt with glitter interspersed amongst the layers that she had made herself, and a deep red boat neck cropped top, along with some classic black sling bag and pumps. Her eyeliner was sharp enough to cut glass, her hair — for once — was down, and she knew she was getting some appreciative glance.

 

For some reason, she felt carefree and confident (though that might of been the glass of wine she had with her risotto). She felt like… dancing.

 

She looked around her. At this time, it was mostly the tourists who were out, taking advantage of a night-washed La Ville-Lumière. They would think she was one of them if she did anything besides walk.

 

So, she did.

 

At first, it was more cautious, like dipping your toe in the water before diving in. She did a small little skip, then spun, relishing the feeling of her skirt fanning out around her. When she oriented herself, some odd looks were thrown her way, but she didn’t care: she didn’t know these people, and they wouldn’t remember her in a few weeks time.

 

She laughed, loud and boisterous and unrestrained, her head thrown back. It felt good.

 

In that moment, she had never been more in love with life and herself.

 

And so she tested the waters more, metaphorically going deeper into the water. She spun and leaped and moonwalked and sidestepped to the music that only she could hear. Parisians and tourists alike watched her with quiet amazement, a girl possessed by something they didn’t yet know, her skirt sending fractals of light into the sky with each movement.

 

She was the very image of a youthful bliss.

 

When Marinette finally heard it, she was reenergised. Jaunty music emanating from a lone saxophone. It was a song she recognized, and she started humming along. She picked up her pace, rushing to find the source of the sound.

 

When she turned the corner, she found an elderly man in a pork pie hat, standing in front with his back to the river. The case was set out by his feet, filled with glittering coins and folded banknotes, and a small speaker attached to a mobile phone played a piano accompaniment. He played with his eyes closed and from his very heart, and the soul behind the notes were so entrancing that Marinette froze, if only for a minute. She then selected a crisp €20 note from her purse and walked forward to deposit it in the case. As she threw it in, the man opened his eyes and winked. Marinette smiled back, and he, as if seeing the need to frolic in Marinette’s face, changed his tune to something with more of a romantic vibe, perfect to sway to.

 

But Marinette suddenly felt shy and self-conscious. The saxophonist had a small crowd prior to her arrival, and more than a couple of eyes had followed Marinette’s journey along the river. Her desire to dance was wilting, now that she had stopped moving.

 

She bit her lip and lowered her head, about to retreat to the ring of listeners surrounding the musician, when a large black mass landed beside her in the centre of the circle.

 

* * *

 

Adrien had desperately wanted to go to the dinner with his friends. But his father, as usual, refused, on the grounds of “impressing his business partners with his trophy son.” Okay, that might be a little exaggerated, but that was more or less the idea.

 

He got out as soon as he could, though. Once the driver dropped him home, he transformed and took to the roofs in order to rush to the restaurant where Nino texted him they were eating at. Alas, he got there just in time to see Nino wrapping an arm around Alya as they left the bistro. Dejectedly, he had been about to vault himself away when he heard the sweet tinkling of Marinette’s voice as she thanked the restaurant staff for dinner.

 

Oh, what a vision she had been in the streetlights. Chat Noir’s brain had stopped working for a second, and all he was capable of doing was dropping his jaw in stunned silence. It was a rare surprise when he could see Marinette’s hair flow unrestrained, especially when it was so carefully arranged. As she set off towards her home, she had a strange little smile on her face. Chat Noir followed her from the rooftops, partly to make sure she got home safely, and also because he was wondering as to what was causing her to look so happy. (Surely something wonderful, he reasoned.)

 

And so he watched as she danced to hidden music along the river. He noted all of her dance moves, and how light her feet seemed to be as she skimmed across the pavement. He regarded the onlookers, and how they seemed charmed by her antics, her untroubled bearing. But most of all, he watched as the lights bounced off her, making her look as though she was wreathed in starlight. Chat Noir thought that it wouldn’t be all that crazy if she were.

 

Her movements seemed to weaken after a time, although she still continued on her walk. He heard the music before her, pleasing notes floating in the breeze. His face didn’t light up the way hers did when the melody finally reached her ears. Her steps became alive once more, and she quickened her pace as she approached the saxophonist’s makeshift stage.

 

A smile bloomed across his mouth as she became shy, and a planned popped into his mind.

 

* * *

 

“Chat Noir! You startled me!” Marinette placed her hand against her chest, feeling her rapid heartbeat through the fabric of her shirt.

 

“Oh, Princess,” Chat Noir said mildly, taking no notice of the tourists whipped into a frenzy at the sigh of him. “Fancy seeing you here,” — Marinette rolled her eyes, knowing very well that their meeting was no coincidence — “Lovely night, isn’t it?” They both ignored the light that flashed across his cheekbone as one tourist took a snapchat video with the flash on, although Marinette subtly angled her face away.

 

“Hello, chaton. Now, if you would please excuse me, I have to be heading home.”

 

Chat pouted. “But Princess,” he implored, “the music’s here.”

 

Marinette cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, and?”

 

“Well…” His eyes glinted rascally. “Who will dance with you at home?”

 

Marinette gave a short snicker. “And who said anything about dancing?”

 

“I do.” Chat Noir bowed gallantly and extended an arm towards her. “May I have this dance?”

 

Marinette blushed as the tourists started cheering and whooping. She place her hand in his, only for him to snatch it away. She gave him a befuddled look.

 

“I forgot something,” he explained, mirth in his grin, and turned to whisper something into the musician’s ear. The man — who was watching upon the unfolding scene with delight — halted his playing, saying nothing but smiled brightly and nodded his head enthusiastically.

 

He crouched and scrolled through his phone as Chat Noir returned to Marinette.

 

“What did you say to hi–“

 

Chat Noir suddenly swept her into his arms, left hand grabbing her right, the other going to rest at her shoulder blade, and pulling her body forward so it was flush with his. Her skirt brushed against his knees, and in her heels, Marinette was almost at eye level with the hero.

 

“Chat Noir!” Marinette exclaimed breathlessly as the growing crowd started to clap wildly.

 

(It's not quite the right length but here is the music to get you into the mood: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m1oDCMwoZYs>)

 

A few bars of the piano emerged from the phone, resonating loudly into the night and across the Seine’s waters.

 

“ _Shh_ ,” he hushed her. “The song’s about to start.” He makes her straighten her posture and fixes the angle of her arm, which is placed on his shoulder and aligned with his own.

 

“But I don’t know how to dance!”

 

The man pressed his lips to his saxophone.

 

Chat Noir winked at her. “Just follow my lead, Princess,” he murmured, just as the first notes of a very familiar song began to play.

 

Her eyes widened. “You didn’t—“

 

Chat took a step forward, pushing Marinette even closer against him. “Step back with your right foot,” he prompted, and she did. He repeated the movement with his other foot, and Marinette followed. They did the movement multiple times until Marinette finally found a rhythm.

 

It wasn’t a complicated dance. It was simple and the steps were almost instinctual. Marinette did stumble and step on Chat’s feet from time to time, but he would bring no attention to it, instead adjusting his movements so that Marinette could find her balance or her footing again. They moved around the circle, the tourists recording or cooing at the pair.

 

The lights lining the street and the riverbank glinted off of Chat Noir, turning his hair molten gold and his eyes grass green. Even with her unsure footing, Chat’s arms never failed to support her. _Chat_ never failed to support her.

 

Despite her embarrassment, Marinette’s smile spanned from ear to ear.

 

“You’re really good at this,” she whispered in his ear. And then she stumbled again, burying her head into Chat’s shoulder so she wouldn’t completely fall.

 

“Shit,” he heard her curse. He chuckled, and she could feel his chest rumble.

 

“Think fast, Princess,” he breathed, before dropping the arm on her back and gently nudging her backwards.

 

“Wait–“ she pleaded, but he already raised the hand that was clasping hers, and she spun, skirt extending. The crowd _ooh_ ed and _aah_ ed at the glimmering effect.

 

Her whirl finished, and Marinette found herself enclosed in Chat Noir’s stable arms once more.

 

“Woah,” she breathed, “ _that_ was cool.”

 

Chat Noir laughed again. “You’re a natural,” he promised.

 

They continued dancing, Marinette finding the movements becoming easier and more comfortable. The saxophone started to fade out as Chat Noir twirled her at the edge of the crowd, and they spun together, coming to a stop in the middle of the circle, both of them breathing heavily. The audience took photos and applauded wildly, depositing money into the saxophone case as the saxophonist wiped his face with a handkerchief. The piano played still in the background.

 

“Well, that was fun,” Marinette exhaled, making no move to step away. “I guess the show’s over.”

 

Chat Noir smirked. “Don’t be too sure, Princess,” he cautioned, as the musician took a deep breath and blew into his instrument, restarting the song.

 

Chat Noir readjusted his grip. “This time, we sing it.”

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

He swept her across the pavement once more, and the audience reassembled themselves and quieted down, once more entranced by the two dancers. Almost everyone had their phones out, the light from the cameras’ flashes acting like miniature spotlights.

 

(lyrics: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0feNVUwQA8U>)

 

“ _Quand elle me prend dans ses bras_ ,” he started, voice clear and harmonious, and the crowd cheered louder. “ _Elle me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose._ ”

**_When she takes me into her arms,_ **

**_She speaks to me in a soft voice_ **

**_I see life in pink hues._ **

“Chat,” Marinette gasped, “you _can_ sing!”

 

“Princess, please, I’m serenading you.”

 

“Sorry,” she squeaked and ducked her head. Their dancing had been reduced to a sway.

 

 **“** _Elle me dit des mots d’amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ca me fait quelque chose._ ”

 

 **_She says words of love to me,_ **

**_Words she says everyday,_ **

**_And that does something for me._ **

****

“Ooh la la, you are so _cheesy_ , chaton.”

 

He snorted, and then continued.

 

 **“** _Elle est entré dans mon cœur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause._ ”

**_She has entered into my heart_ **

**_A part of happiness_ **

**_From which I know the cause._ **

 

For some reason, Marinette couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

 

 **“** _C’est lui pour moi. Moi pour lui dans la vie. Elle me l’a dit, l’a juré pour la vie._ ”

As he sang this, he pivoted their bodies and released her hand, spinning her outwards. With a neat jerk of his wrist, she spun back, her arms crossed across her body and her back against his chest, facing their audience..

**_It’s me for him, and him for me_ **

**_In life,_ **

**_He said it to me, and swore it for life._ **

****

“Your turn,” he whispers quickly in the short break that followed the verse.

 

“What? No—“

 

But the next verse had begun, and the crowd was looking at her expectantly, so she decided to screw it. She opened her mouth and started to sing, voice soft and high.

“ _Et des que je l’apercois, alors je sens en moi_ ,” — Chat joined her for the last line, letting his arms fall so that she could face him again — “ _Mon coeur qui bat._ ”

 

They held the last note for as long as they could, Chat Noir outlasting her by three beats. The saxophone crescendoed, and finally faded away. The audience was silent for a second, before they erupted into a wild ovation.

 

Marinette’s blue eyes stared into Chat Noir’s green ones, and she could only think about the last few lines of the song.

**_And once I realize_ **

**_Then I sense it in myself_ **

**_My heart that’s beating._ **

 

****

* * *

 

 

When the crowd had dissipated after many autographs and photos, the saxophonist thanked them profusely for his overflowing pockets, and offered to play at their wedding for free. Marinette and Chat Noir both flushed and looked anywhere but the other as the man chortled and walked away.

 

After a pregnant pause, Chat Noir bowed and asked her, “May I walk you home?”

 

Marinette smiled shyly. “Of course. A Princess needs her knight, doesn’t she?”

 

Chat Noir beamed, smile growing brighter still when she took his arm. They walked in a silence that spoke depths.

 

“So…” Marinette began, “You really hit those notes back there. I was led to believe you couldn’t sing.”

 

Chat pretended to look affronted. “Who said that? How dare they?”

 

“The entirety of _Paris_ did, after you paraded around this city sing ‘Princess Fragrance’ and ‘Give me your Miraculous’ off-key.”

 

“In my defense, I _was_ being mind controlled. That stuff was so putrid, it would mess up anyone’s voice.”

 

They looked at each other, and burst out laughing, their merriment ringing against the buildings. They tried to shush each other and failed, stumbling around like drunks as tears ran from their eyes, until, finally, the golden accents of the bakery came into view. Marinette looked up at her home with a sudden sadness, not wanting to leave the warm body beside her. When she looked back at Chat to say her goodbye, she found him already gazing at her.

 

“Is this ‘Goodnight,’ then?” he asked, voice low.

 

“I’m afraid so.”

 

“Well.” He stepped back and took her hand in both of his. “Here is my goodnight.”

 

He parted his lips and sang once more, his voice softer and tenderer, as if it was for Marinette’s ears only. It was.

 

When he had finished, Marinette’s brows were furrowed. “What did that mean? Was that English? I only got that last part — was it “La Vie en Rose”? You know, I don’t speak English.”

 

“It’s okay, you weren’t supposed to.”

 

“That’s not fair! How am I supposed to know what you said?”

 

“That’s for me to know.” He gave her a quick kiss on her brow. “And for you to find out.” She gaped at his boldness.

“Goodnight — err, morning, Princess.” He took a few steps backwards, saluted her, and extended his baton. Then, he vanished into the night.

 

“Now that’s _really_ unfair…” she mumbled, cheeks flaming as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

**_When you speak, angels,_ **

**_Sing from above_ **

**_Everyday words seem_ **

**_To turn into love songs_ **

****

**_Give your heart and soul to me,_ **

**_And life will always be_ **

**_La vie en rose_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why Marinette is so MPDG here but idk sometimes I like to do that so yeah.
> 
> For those of you who don't know, the song is La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf, and the version that Chat sings to her in the end is the Louis Armstrong version
> 
> speaking of which (shameless self promotion!): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9i2LncD8g9U


	9. Movie Night/Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sLUMBA PARTAY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is this so bad?
> 
> I honestly apologize.

 

“So, what is Le Cinéma Marinette featuring tonight?”

 

Marinette had decided that they were both in dire need for a movie night. Exams were approaching in school, and Chat Noir seemed stressed as well. So, on Saturday, while her parents were spending the night in the country with some friends, she locked up the store, bought five bags of popcorn (extra buttered, the way she knew Chat liked it), made a large pot of hot chocolate, and dragged the guest mattress up her stairs, which she then laid on the floor in front of her computer and piled it with blankets and pillows.

 

Chat Noir arrived at a little past six. “Sorry I’m late, Princess. My family had a… thing,” he explained as he climbed down from the loft.

 

“No worries.” Marinette was refluffing the pillows and making sure the computer was at the right angle for optimal viewing experience. “Hey, can you do me a favour? Tilt the screen downwards? No, too much… a little more…. there! Perfect. Thanks Chat.” She straightened and admired her handiwork. “So,” she said, “what do you think? Does this not look like the set up for an awesome movie night?”

 

Chat Noir laughed. “It’s perfect Princess.” He came to her side to put his arm around her shoulder and looked at the ridiculously fluffy blanket fort she had made. “It looks really comfortable; I hope we don’t fall asleep.”

 

“Maybe you, lightweight, but I can run on two hours of sleep.”

 

“Ah yes, a workaholic,” he teased. “Aren’t you hardcore?”

 

“I can rest when I’m dead,” she shot back.

 

“Hey, hey, keep your claws in, kitty.”

 

“That’s _Princess_ Kitty to you.”

 

Chat Noir howled with laughter until Marinette asked him, “So, which movie first? _Sinister_ or _The Conjuring_?”

 

“Are you insane?” Chat shook his head violently. “No no no no—“

 

“What, are you a _scaredy_ cat?” Marinette blew a raspberry at him. “I bet you can’t make it past three movies before pissing yourself.”

 

Chat Noir’s eyes narrowed at the challenge. “Fine, Princess. You’re on.”

 

* * *

 

Chat couldn’t believe it. This girl was going to be the death of him. Six hours into their marathon, three tubs and four bowls of popcorn later, the girl actually had the _gall_ to fall asleep on his shoulder. She was there now, snoring and even drooling a bit. Chat would’ve rolled his eyes if he hadn’t been so terrified that he couldn’t take his eyes off the movie. Instead, he just pressed the slumbering girl closer to him as the little girl on screen — possessed by the ghost of a jealous nanny — did unspeakable things to her infant brother.

 

In the beginning, watching the movies wasn’t scary. In fact, it was almost comical, as Marinette would make sardonic and mocking comments about the antagonists, the actors, and the plot. Chat even joined in with a quip or two every so often, normally ones about cats, to which Marinette would throw a piece of popcorn at him, and which he would easily snatch out of the air.

 

Chat felt like screaming, but was worried that his wails would just amuse the creatures that fed on fear and lurked in the shadowy corners. He silently thanked Plagg for his night vision, because at least he could see the room in more or less perfect brightness and the sight of Marinette’s pink walls comforted Chat, even if they were slightly creepy in their childishness.

 

He was working up the courage to dash to the monitor, turn it off, and dive back under the blankets when he saw something red move in the corner of his eye.

 

While he mentally shat — _hehehe, " **chat**." Nice one_ — his pants, his body froze.

 

 _Nope nope nope nope_ , he chanted while he tried to subtly scan the room. One of the scarier movies that he had to suffer through alone had a little ghost boy with red eyes. Chat had half the mind to detransform and call the Gorilla to come and rescue him, but he had the feeling that his father wouldn’t be too happy as to why Adrien was alone, in bed, with a sleeping girl in the middle of the night. He would probably be even more incensed that Adrien needed to call in the cavalry because he was too chicken to watch B-grade horror movies in a bright pink bedroom.

 

A soft giggle. Chat Noir clenched his jaw and groaned inwardly. And then Marinette turned in her sleep, throwing a leg over Chat’s, and then he groaned out loud, ghosts be damned.

 

Was this seriously to be how he died?

 

Chat Noir was seriously about to book it when Marinette’s hand on his chest curled into a fist and her body stiffened around him. She whimpered, and Chat could see her face scrunching into a grimace.

 

“Princess,” he whispered, because he had bigger problems than some lame spirits. “Princess, wake up.”

 

She just dug her face into his side and her breathing became heavier. Dread settled in Chat Noir’s heart.

 

He sat up. “Hey, Marinette, time to wake up.” He shook her shoulder. “Princess, _please_.”

 

“C-Chat,” she croaked. Chat’s body relaxed, and he thought that she woke up, but he noticed that her eyes weren’t opening.

 

“Don’t leave me… I’m s-s-sorry… please…” she sobbed. Chat Noir turned her so she was one her back again and was alarmed to see tears streaking down her face. “I d-didn’t mean too, it was… mistake—No!” she suddenly cried out, and Chat near damn jumped out of his skin.

 

 _She’s having a bad dream_ , he realised belatedly. Chat Noir did the only thing he could think of: what his mom used to do to comfort Adrien. He gently lifted Marinette so that she was lying in his lap, and began to stroke her sweat-damp hair and rock her back and forth. He couldn’t think of a lullaby, so he just hummed soothingly.

 

Soon, Marinette’s body loosened, and her whimpers and cries faded away, and her tears stopped flowing. The grip around Chat’s heart relaxed, and he smiled despite the exhaustion.

 

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Sweet dreams, Princess,” he whispered, nestling into the blankets. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep with a blue-eyed girl in his arms.

 

* * *

 

She woke up to the sound of Tikki’s laughter. Marinette opened her eyes blearily.

 

“Tikki, whudderyudooen?” she slurred, rubbing her eyes.

 

“Oh, nothing, Marinette!” replied Tikki impishly. “I just wonder how you’re going to explain _this_ to your mom?” Marinette furrowed her brow.

 

“Explain _what_?” Marinette suddenly registered the feeling of cool leather against her cheek. She sat up in alarm, and stared, horrified, at the blond boy in her bed. She also recognised the sound of her mother’s footsteps walking up her stairs, coupled with her calling for Marinette to come down for breakfast. She buried her face in her hands while Tikki guffawed daintily.

 

“ _Fuckkkkk_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is this so bad????
> 
> The first draft had this as a line btw: _Chat Noir felt his asshole clench_
> 
> So, you know, it could've been worse.


	10. "I Almost Lost You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a game of cat and mouse goes south?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, bad news: EXAMS ARE NEXT WEEK AND I REALLY WONT BE ABLE TO UPDATE. 
> 
> Good news: SUMMER BREAK IS SO SOON AND I WILL BE WRITING 24/7
> 
> THIS MEANS WORDS OF FLOWERS UPDATES
> 
> THIS MEANS I MIGHT START THAT TWELFTH NIGHT AU
> 
> THIS MEANS A FICLET SERIES AND MAYBE SOME QUALITY, COLLABORATIVE SMUT
> 
> PLEASE STICK W ME FAM

Chat Noir’s tail twitched as he watched the square below from the gargoyle, body twisted into a crouch. His acid-green eyes scanned the busy square, searching for the blue-black shine of a certain bakers’ daughter's hair.

 

 _Aha!_ There she was, head ducked low and trying to blend in. Unfortunately for her, her movements were too controlled, and she stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the relaxed sightseers. He watched as she slipped off into a less-crowded side street, and he sprung from his post to the next roof as she disappeared from his view.

 

Next, he peeked over the lip of a building to see her pace to be faster, and her actions sloppier; she kept on looking back and around her, no doubt in an attempt to spot _him_.

 

 _Good luck with that_ , he thought smugly. _I am the Night itself, Princess. You’re not catching me_.

 

He followed her for a couple more blocks, making sure to always keep his distance., but to also keep her in his sight. He pouted when she entered a boutique, for he obviously would not be able to surveil her there. He sat on the roof opposite the store and waited, a lone lamplight illuminating the door like a spotlight. It was only until a salesgirl came outside and locked up that he realised he had been tricked.

 

 _That wicked girl_ _!_ he cursed, a grin on his face. _The Princess is a sly one._

He stood up and dusted himself off. _Doesn’t she realise that in a game of cat and mouse, only I can win?_

He extended his baton and vaulted over the street and onto the roof the boutique. Behind the store, he found, was a little alleyway, filled with trashed cardboard boxes and plastic wrappings. He inhaled deeply, and caught the fading trail of her cookie dough scent.

 

 _She pulled a Jay Z on me_ , he thought in shock. _She **literally** snuck out the back door!_

He had to admit, the girl was resourceful. He followed the trail from the roofs as best as he could, but his cat senses were better for eyes and ears, and in the minutes that had passed, many other smells had intermingled with hers. He decided to move down to the ground, for the scent would be stronger and easier to track down there. He walked along the trail, occasionally having to double back because he would end up in dead ends and men’s rooms ( _that_ was an awkward selfie).

 

Finally, near the school, the smell of her strengthened, and he looked up, victory surging in his heart as he locked eyes with her leaning against the wall.

 

“Whew, I almost lost you!” he cried, even as his face fell at her smug expression.

 

“Are you so sure about that?” she goaded, her smirk stretching.

 

* * *

 

The bet had gone like this: find Marinette by midnight, and win.

 

It had all started when Chat Noir claimed he was the best finder in Paris. Marinette had disagreed.

 

(“If you’re the best finder in the city, then why haven’t you found any good puns?” she said. Chat Noir had pretended to laugh at that, but he secretly felt like he needed some burn cream.)

And then she had insinuated she was every good at hide and seek, which Chat Noir had denied (“Please, with _your_ clumsiness?”), and thus the bet was born.

 

“So what’s my prize for when—“

 

“If,” Marinette interjected under her breath.

 

“— _when_ I win?” Chat Noir asked.

 

“I don’t know,” she replied innocuously. “Does the little kitty want some catnip?”

 

Chat narrowed his eyes at that. “Okay, Princess of Sasstown,” he said slowly, “when I win, I want… a kiss.”

 

Marinette, bless her, kept her face neutral, although the widening of her eyes had given away her surprise. “A kiss.”

 

“Yes,” confirmed Chat. Then he winced. “But, if you’re uncomfortable or unwilling or anything, then I can just get a croiss—“

 

“Nope.”

 

Chat Noir’s face blanched. Marinette laughed and poked his nose.

 

“No, silly chaton, I don’t mean it like _that_. I meant ‘fine.’ I’ll do it.”

 

Chat Noir’s face reddened.

 

“But,” she amended, “only _if_ you win.” And then she had fled at breakneck speed, leaving Chat to blink after her.

 

“What about _if_ you win?” he called out, but she never turned back. Chat decided that it was only fair to let her have a head start while his cheeks cooled.

 

* * *

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chat demanded.

 

“What it means,” she said, pushing off the wall and walking towards him. “Is that you should probably check the time.”

 

Mortification travelling up his spine, Chat Noir unsheathed his baton and turned on the screen.

 

“12:03,” he whispered in disbelief.

 

“Hah!” barked Marinette. “I win!”

 

Chat Noir sighed, and then smiled. “You win,” he conceded. “What’s your prize?”

 

“This,” announced Marinette, before she grabbed his shoulders and kissed him.

 

On the nose, but still a kiss.

 

When she pulled back, Chat’s eyes were the size of saucers. “This kiss was _my_ prize!” he said incredulously.

 

“Oh, really?” Marinette winked. “Well, I don’t know about you, but that certainly felt like a prize to _me_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am p h y s i c a l l y unable to do angst and or kisses
> 
> BUT THE KISSES WILL COME.
> 
> H OHO THEY WILL COME
> 
> also do u feel my lemonade vibes


	11. Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's your sin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ALIVE...

“It’s so hard,” she whimpers.  
  
They’re on the floor.  
  
Marinette’s cheeks are flushed and Chat Noir is biting his lip.  
  
Dozens of creased papers cover the area around them. They lean on each other,  Chat Noir plays Flappy Bird on Marinette’s cellphone, struggling to tap the screen with his claws. Marinette, on the other hand, is close to screaming from frustration. She glares down at the notebook in her lap, one hand gripping the calculator tightly while the other holds a pencil by her mouth.  
  
“I just don’t get it.”  
  
Chat Noir looks over his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Princess?”

She sighs. “It’s just… what is physics even? A vector? Tangents? I understand nothing.”

He chuckles, sending vibrations through her body. “Here, let me help you. What do you not understand the most?”

She adjusts herself so that she is sitting next to him, thighs pressed against his. She uses the pencil to circle the entire page. “This.”

Chat Noir flicks her nose affectionately and scans her homework. “Well, there are three functions: tan, cos, but we’ll start with **sin**.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... pls don't kill me


End file.
